A Single, Simple Sock is a Girl's Best Friend
by JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo
Summary: This is the story of how two friends and their love for the finer things in life saved the mansion, destroyed the Professor's sanity, drove Scott Summers to change his identity, and brought one of them closer to Logan. Craziness, just because I can and wanted it to be that way.


**Oh, God, for a moment I thought I'd lost this ENTIRE document. Note to self - Never lean on keyboard when extremely drunk, just returned from pub and unable to control body. Except, I did lose PART of my story… Really annoyed. But it was okay, I had to re-write a great chunk of it, and I've lived to tell the tale. And now HUGE Jackman is calling me, that would be the HUGE Jackman that lives in my head and my DVD collection. **

**_Oh, how I need to add a few more HUGE Jackman titles to my collection. _**

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**A Single, Simple Sock Is A Girls Best Friend  
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_As the days grow warmer, the news is flushed with warnings of droughts, financial disasters, and the ever growing dependency the country has on the X-men, two young women sit side-by-side in the garage of all places. Best friends since the day they first met, each know that the fate of the mansion rests on their inexperienced shoulders. _

_This is the story of how these two friends, and their love for the finer things in life saved the mansion, destroyed the Professor's sanity, drove Scott Summers to change his identity, and brought one of them closer to Logan then she could have ever imagined. The date is; Sunday 22__nd__ August, the time is irrelevant, yet far too early and each have inherited a hangover courtesy of Saturday night. _

_The story is the stuff of legend, and a glitter of hope for the masses. This is how Marie and Jubilee left their mark on the world, and became heroes to the modern day perverts of the land. And it all started on a typical morning in Westchester, New York…_

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* * *

_

I don't like Sunday mornings, they're a curse and a disgrace to the rest of the week, especially Fridays.

On a Friday, there's a warm fuzzy feeling in the deepest, darkest depths of my stomach, and only a night on the town with Jubilee can satisfy the hunger.

Okay, not strictly true, but that's all you're getting. These are times of trouble and my mind needs to be focused, cleansed of all perversions and hangover free… If at all possible.

Jubilee waves her arms in the air, huffs and scoots closer to the radio. "What the heck! Do they want me to puke up my half eaten cream cheese bagel all over the _Gucci_ dress I just so happen to be wearing? The one with the fine double silk stitching, beautiful diamond encrusted zipper, and number one must have item of clothing for two thousand and ten, then they're going the right way about it." She wails, pretending to gag as she searches for another station. "I can't stand _Justin Bieber_, and what's with _Miley Cyrus_? The world has gone mad, Roguey, mad I say!"

My temples pound slightly, and my stomach churns in revulsion. Both are disgusted by the music, alarming lack of sleep and Logan. Who cares about Logan though? I certainly don't.

I raise my head off the bonnet, and groan in frustration. "But what are we going to do?"

Finally settling on a station that meets her strict list of requirements, she vanishes behind the dashboard and I spot the tip of her heeled boots poking out from behind the car door. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

My head becomes reacquainted with the bonnet, and I sigh as the cold surface lulls me into a false sense of security. I have to remind myself that I'm not in bed, and this is a car I'm snuggling up to. Although a car is less likely to have the same amount of issues as Logan, or be as neurotic as Scott and don't even get me started on Bobby and his bed hopping. "Not really, Jubes."

"We over-throw the government and ban all satanic worshipping to these cult leaders. Oh, they think they're so clever, don't they? Well I'm onto them, all of them. These _Jonas brothers _and _Justin Bieber's _of the world are one step away from a Jubilation Lee firework special."

"Actually, I was talking about the mansion, but I need a laugh, so please continue."

I hear her click her newly pierced tongue, and her head appears through the sunroof. "You know I'm right, girl. This country is heading for ruin, and it's all those manufactured _Disney_ boppers faults."

"_Disney_ boppers?" I snort, spreading my arms out and exhaling deeply.

"I heard Scott say it last week." She replies, shrugging her shoulders.

"And you just had to repeat it? Are you still drunk, or do you still have a crush on him?"

Jubilee gasps, splutters and then slaps her hand on the roof. "I was young and obviously out of my mind." She declares, blushing furiously. "I'm so over it now and Scott's six pack is dead to me."

I roll my eyes at her and struggle to sit up. The summer heat is so unbearable, my clothes are even protesting their disgust by melting into the framework of the car and attempting to abandon my sweltering, sweating body. "You're a terrible liar."

"Oh, and what about you and the Wolverine, huh? What's going on there exactly?"

My friends question cues the battle of the blushes, and I'd bet my virginity that I'm winning by a long shot. "Nothing." I respond bitterly. "Nothing at all."

Just a case of harmless flirting when he's bored, buzzed on a bottle of beer, and notices that I have breasts. It's been a slow, tiring process but he's getting there.

"Now back to the issue at hand, and yes I'm blatantly trying to change the subject."

She taps her manicured, yellow brightly painted nails in rhyme to the music, and yawns. "It's simple, we kidnap _Justin Bieber _and hold him for the million bucks ransom."

I groan at her reply. "I'd rather avoid the felony charges and what's with this _Bieber _obsession? It's starting to sound pretty unhealthy. Maybe the Professor can find you a hot looking shrink?"

"Ha! I'm not the one that searches through Wolverine's washing, looking for his boxers! Who needs a shrink now, Roguey?"

I sit up so fast, my brain screams at the injustice of it all. "That was only once and you know it. My lecturer gave me an A+ for that assignment and she said I had a keen eye for detail!"

Jubilee punches the roof, throws her head back and cackles. "Who in their right mind paints a pair of Wolvie's skid marked panties? You girl, need a damn shrink!"

Balancing on the bonnet with a pair of sweaty knees enveloped in the sheen, mulberry shade of panty hose, I crawl closer to Jubes, half the fabric of my skirt riding up my ass crack. "It was still life assignment!" And don't you dare imply that Logan marks his boxers!" I collapse on the windscreen, finding it impossible to crawl any further without falling off the car completely. "You were the one that asked Scott if he wanted a sports massage!"

"I was being nice, he had an injury!"

"It was a groin strain, Jubilee!"

Her face drops and she leans forward. "Well, I'm a nice girl!" I snort at that, and she smirks in response wiggling her finger in my face. "What about the fourth of July, when you got drunk?"

The blush returns with a vengeance, and I point back in warning. "Don't you dare mention _that_ night."

I have all but purged the entire embarrassment of it all from my mind and almost lost my sanity in the process. Camping, bottles of beer, see through dresses, tequila shots, plastic tents, fireworks and a forest fire in no way constitute a good night. I still think Scott was over reacting with the whole; "We nearly died!" speech.

I had no idea a plastic tent ignited so fast if you drunkenly poured tequila over it, borrowed a firework from the family in the next clearing while they sang _Kumbaya_, stole Logan's lighter, and lit the fuse.

"Oh, in need of someone to talk to are we? Maybe a shrink, or ten?"

"The whole incident was a tragic mistake!"

She dismisses my last comment with the wave of a hand, and eyes me knowingly. "The only tragic mistake was you burning the wrong one down, Chica. Poor Scott had to sleep inside Wolvie's tent and he hasn't been the same since!"

"Surely that's a good thing?" Okay, so she has me there. It was Logan's tent I was trying to burn down and because of that little arson fiasco, people now think I'm unhinged… Which is really not the case. I'm actually a sweet, misunderstood person with many notable attributes.

"Admit it!" Jubilee demands. "You wanted Wolverine to share your sleeping bag just so you could get down and dirty with his skid marked panties!"

I shove her roughly, slapping her hands away as she attempts to push me back. "He doesn't soil himself! And perhaps Scott's the one who needs to see a shrink!"

"You take that back!" She screeches, almost knocking me off my perch.

"Not until you take back what you said about Logan's underwear!"

We both grapple with each other, our hands pulling, yanking and pinching anything we come into contact with. Jubilee howls in protest when I drag her out of the sun roof, and we both release a terrified yelp when we lose our balance and fall off the car.

Landing in a tangled heap on the solid ground, we glance at each other for a minute or so, smile, grin widely and then bubble over with hysterical laughter, holding our stomachs and gasping for air.

"You know, I prefer goin' commando."

The gruff voice momentarily destroys the hilarity of the moment, and all signs of previous amusement run for the nearest cliff and leap to it's watery grave.

I feel Logan's questioning gaze on me, and my nipples harden, my libido soars and I desperately want to join my amusement on the cliff top for a spot of self sacrificing fun. Oh God, I wonder how much of that he heard?

"You see, Roguey? Next time you have another still life assignment, you can paint the real thing instead of…"

I elbow Jubilee in the side and do my best impression of a coma patient with a flailing arm, permanent blush, and a stinking great lust between her thighs.

Does he really walk around without anything underneath those tight, denim ass compressors he calls jeans? They're more like nut crackers, or maybe they're just painted on and it's all an illusion?

I listen to the scuff of his boots and the creak of the garage door. "Doubt Scooters gonna be happy with you wrestlin' on his heap. Though, I wouldn't mind if you donned on a bikini and mud wrestled the mornin' away, Darlin'." He snorts, punctuating the end of his sentence with a lengthy growl that surely matches the breadth, magnitude and span of his monster dong.

The door shuts, and Jubilee's face appears before me extinguishing the very thought that I'd just died and gone to heaven. Logan just openly flirted with me, without a bottle of beer in his hand and in front of witnesses.

Does he know something that I don't? Am I dying? Is he gay and only complimenting me out of a homosexual need to be free, proud and ever so sparkly? Is an enormous asteroid, one bigger then his pocket rocket about to crash into the Earth and destroy all known civilisation?

I drool and fail to form a single word, let alone a sentence until Jubilee slaps me across the face and demands that I snap out of 'La -la- Logan- Land.' I hear music, bells chime and I wipe the spittle from my chin, "Hallelujah, praise the Lord Logan, I have an idea!"

* * *

The Professor sits behind his desk, dressed to impress, and looking all together taken aback. "I'm sure you've spent many an hour discussing this between yourselves, but an old man such as myself might need a little more time to contemplate such a thing."

Jubilee rolls her eyes and begins to crowd his personal space, "We're only asking for the full co-operation of the X-men, that's all, Charlie."

"She's right, Professor," I sigh, patting him on the back and smiling sweetly. "Just think about brand Beckham. She was once a _Spice Girl _who couldn't sing for shi… I mean, um, toffee. He was a hot, soccer player with gorgeous legs and a cute ass, now they're worth millions of dollars because they've dropped their previous identities and branched out into the big, wide world."

He clasped his hands together, silently contemplating my words. "That's all very well and good, girls…"

"But?" We both reply, knowing the Professor has more preservations then Scott at a Chinese whore house.

"Who on earth are the Beckham's and what has this got to do with my problem?"

Jubilee chokes on her gum, and I fall back in my chair wondering whether he has been living under a rock for the past thirteen years. "Jeez, and you call yourself a Professor?" Jubes asks incredulously, tapping him on the forehead and screeching, "Hello, is there anybody in there!"

"They're a celebrity couple with millions in the bank, that's all you need to know." I respond quickly before my friend has the chance to insult him further.

The Professor nods mutely, eyeing Jubilee hesitantly and moving out of harms way with the flick of a switch on his wheelchair.

"Yeah, and Scott has a better ass then David anyway. I mean, have you seen Scott's ass in a tight pair of shorts? I swear it's like instead of being on a diet, I'm inhaling giant lumps of calorific orgasm inducing love muffins, do you know what I mean?"

"Jube's, they weren't shorts, they were Speedos and love muffins are another word for breasts. Anyway, Logan is the sex God of the X-men, everybody knows that."

She wrinkles her nose. "You're deluded, Roguey. Logan is old which means his ball sack is probably all shrivelled up and lost to the world. He's nasty, and Scott has a ball sack to be proud of!"

"You haven't even seen his ball sack!"

"I did, I saw _everything_ that time he lost his shorts in the pool!"

"They were Speedos and you pulled them down!"

"Ladies, ladies," The Professor interrupts, a faint blush on his cheeks. "If I say yes to this money making scheme, will you promise to leave my office and not return until you've finished with your venture?"

"Yes," We both answer.

"Good, then you have my blessing."

* * *

The Professor is broke, the money he invested has been gobbled up by the fat cats and the school is in trouble. I guess that's the gist of things and with myself, and Jubilee running the show, there will be light, pleasure and an undeniably urge to sneak into the men's locker room, and masturbate to the sounds of Logan showering.

Okay, ignore that last part. I have no idea where it came from. There is nothing remotely sexy and erotic about Logan's hands smearing his naked flesh with a bar of standard soap. His torso tarnished and overcome with bubbles, hundreds of thousands of bubbles. The water cascading down his chiselled body, the curve of his buttocks, his hulky, robust and strapping thighs. The hum of my meat wallet complimenting the pitter- patter of water… I want him, I want him so bad.

"Rogue?"

"Mmm?" I moan, sounding as though I'm in the middle of a workout between Logan's thighs. My eyes are closed, my head is resting in my hand and I smile to myself, thoroughly pleased my imagination is still in relatively working order. I thought I'd have burnt it out by now. "I mean… Uh, what? Yeah, um, yes? Hello there, Scott and you."

Scott ignores my idiotic answer, choosing to strike up a conversation with Jubilee instead. Logan on the other hand, stares at me… Again. Then he sniffs, I definitely saw his nostrils twitch and an animalistic grin strips me of my last nerve.

He knows. I swear he knows, and he knows, that I know that he knows. Ah, I hate knowing and how dare he know! "We here for a reason, or did you just want an audience while you get off on those thoughts of yours?"

Ah, he knows! I knew that he knew and now everybody else knows too. Stop looking at me, stop fucking looking at me like that. "I, I was, I was just thinking about, about…" Yes, what were you thinking about, Rogue? Eek, stop drooling, sit up straight and… "Cleaning the gutters, I was thinking about cleaning the gutters." Stop having eye sex, don't look, it burns, oh how it burns. "I like cleaning and uh, stuff. It's good and my fingers enjoy removing the moss and leaves. My hands like to, um, touch wet, soggy, mushy, squishy things."

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Jubilee gives me the thumbs up, Scott appears to be completely oblivious and Logan smirks, "Me too, darlin', me too."

"Great, you and Rogue wouldn't mind cleaning the rain gutters this weekend, would you? It'd be a real load off my mind." Cyclops waffles on, waiting for us both to reply.

"Sure thing," Logan grunts, leaning against the kitchen cabinet and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"The ladder is under the stairs."

"We won't need it. I can think of plenty of positions for us to clean in, and we sure as hell won't be needin' a ladder."

I sit here cringing as the sexual innuendo flies over Scott's head, ricochets off the wall, and my friend laps up every last drop. "Can we _clean _to, Scott?" Jubilee asks hopefully, eagerly hopping from foot to foot.

Before he has the chance to reply, I clear my throat and stand up. "The reason you're both here is because…" Don't look at Logan, please don't look at Logan. "Because if we don't do something, the school will be forced to close down."

"Roguey's right, so you're going to whip your dicks out, strike a pose, we're going to take sexy photos of you both… Many, many, many photos and slap them in two limited edition Cyclops, and Wolverine X-Men calendars. What do you guys think about that? I bet you can't wait, can you?"

Even behind his ruby quartz glasses, I sense panic in Scott's eyes. Logan, is dumbstruck, for the first time ever, he's lost for words and on the brink of a hot flush. Well, his face is slightly clammy, and hot flush sounds so much more poetic.

"A Calendar?" Scott squeaks, "With me and him in. What kind of calendar?"

"A sexy one, weren't you listening to me?" Jubilee complains, popping a piece of gum in her mouth.

"I thought I might have misheard."

"So you'll do it then?" I question, ignoring the looks of dread being thrown my way.

Logan pushes himself off the cabinet, marches passed me and retrieves a beer from the fridge. "Nuh uh, not happenin'." He grunts, while I ogle his tightly denim clad ass. "I ain't into flashin' my Johnson unless I'm spendin' the night with a broad who has a likin' for nature, overgrown bushes and skinny dippin', you get me?"

Oh, I get you all right, Logan. Why does everything he says just scream: I'm a great, big, horny assed mother-fucking bastard with sex on the brain twenty four seven. I like to lower the tone and spread my filthy thoughts far and wide, if you don't like it, I don't give a flying fuck. In fact, I was the first person to join the mile high club, it was me who coined the phrase and I love it when chicks drool over my enormous, bulging biceps. It makes me feel superior, Grr… Oooh, I smell beer!

I mean, come on, why else would he swan around in those wife beaters? And I admit as a good Christian girl, I'm a filthy, dirty minded young lady. And yes, yes, I felt a twinge in my loins and I very much doubt it was God popping down to say hello.

"I also have to decline."

"You ain't got a dick to whip out, huh, One-Eye?"

Myself and Jubilee have learnt over the years never to get involved in one of their cockfights. They exchange insults at least twice a day, three times an hour on a special occasion and please don't even get me started on the time the _Super Bowl, _beer and a fight over a packet of peanuts spilled out of the mansion. I still don't think the Professor has dared lower his psychic walls, Logan's language that day would have made a sailor blush and I'm ninety nine percent sure that's why the sky is blue.

Next time you step out the front door, gaze into the sky and if you don't spot a rain cloud in sight, please silently thank Wolverine and the worldly, profanity choked urban dictionary he swallowed. The guy just turns the air blue around him, it's a gift.

"I'll have you know," Scott announces, puffing out his chest and attempting to look the part for Jubilee. The part of a boob that is. "I've never had a complaint, Logan."

The hairy Canuck snaps the cap off his bottle of beer with his teeth. This leaves me pondering if he'd do the same with my nipple given half the chance. I'd better lay down some ground rules, or it'll be _sayonara _to the Southern cymbals. "With the women you bed, I ain't surprised. Dick-less wonders are a dime a dozen down the bus station. Same goes for crack whores."

Jubilee glances at me, I can see her out of the corner of my eye. I shrug my shoulders and wait patiently for Scott's comeback. I'd give it a maximum of two minutes and thirty seconds until he picks his jaw off the floor. "You said you'd never mention that again!" Scott cries, the blush creeping across his face and his gaze pinned solely on Wolverine. "I was drunk and you failed to tell me she was a… One of _those_…" He holds his hands up, a string of hastily made gestures, numerous nods of the head and an embarrassed groan being all we have to go on. "Women."

Logan stands beside me, throws his free arm over my shoulder and all but slaughters my composure. "Crack whore. Those the words you lookin' for, Scooter?" He snorts, gulping down a third of his beer. "The fearless leader ain't just a chump who can't handle his beer, nah, he's a chump with an empty wallet too."

"I only wanted to relieve myself and those toilets were awfully dirty at the bar. Stop laughing, Logan, you know perfectly well it was an accident."

"Just tripped, did you, Scooter?"

Jubilee swears loudly and I feel myself melting into his side on an unsteady pair of legs. "Scoot… Uh, Scott," I whimper… No, don't do that. Stop reacting to Logan. "If you ever want to redeem yourself in Jubilee's eyes, then you'll agree to remove all your clothes, allow me to molest your body with baby oil and… And, and sprawl on the bed with me in your beefy arms, growling as I lick your gentleman sausage, begging me to smoke it like one of your cheap cigars."

Please, just let me die.

That was my imagination running away from me again. Although it's never leapt right out of my mind before and paraded around for all to see dressed in a G-string and a skimpy bra.

"I went out drinking last night." I tell them, acutely aware of Logan's twitching fingers bruising my shoulder.

"Once again, Roguey's right!" Jubilee shouts, her hands on her hips. "Your calendars have to be on the shelves by Christmas, and you," She snarls, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "You, Scott Summers are no longer the man I thought you were." Cyclops tries to defend himself, but she walks away, stopping short of the door. "You're even better! Meet me by the pool in ten minutes, I have to find my camera."

"I guess we're both doing this then. Thankfully, I know my photo's will be tasteful and more to the point, I'm still in with a chance no thanks to you, Wolverine." Scott says, standing to his feet and leaving the room.

Poor Scott, he's finally gone insane. There is no way Jubilee is going to let him keep any of his clothes on, especially once she finds out he's interested in her.

"Logan, I'm bruised enough already!" Only last night I fell three times in the space of a minute in the grounds of the mansion. What a stupid place to erect a fence, plant four bushes, one willow tree and a flowerbed. I swear they weren't there when I left. Perhaps Storm is suffering from PMS again? She's always nesting, planting, cleaning, vacuuming, screaming, flying, or trying to fry someone with a lightening bolt when she's like that. "Stop fidgeting and go tap something else."

Removing his arm, he slams down his bottle. "Let's get one thing straight," He growls, lifting my chin so our eyes meet. "I don't buy cheap cigars. Never have done, never will do."

"Okay," I reply, trying to fight the giggle that's erupting inside me. Deep inside me. Here come the naughty, dirty, filthy, rather exciting thoughts again. We look at each other, stare at each other, stare some more and I have the overwhelming urge to say something, "Socks on cocks."

Logan arches both eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"I'm a fucking genius, seriously you're looking at sheer brilliance, intelligence and a damn right Einstein like knack for flair, creativity and wisdom." He doesn't utter a word, only reaches for his beer. "Okay, okay, okay, I need to find a camera. You, now, you can meet me… Meet me in the men's locker room, bring your beer, cheap…" I stop mid-sentence when Logan growls in warning. I thinks he's slightly protective of his cheap Cuban cigars. "Expensive cigars, so overpriced that you had to sell your body, re-mortgage the mansion and become Madonna's yoga tutor to afford them."

I turn to leave but his voice stops me in my tracks. "Hey, there's no way in hell I'm doin' this."

Oh, how cute. The Wolverine is shy, that's so attractive. Isn't it attractive?

"Do you really want Scott to receive all the praise for saving the kids?" He's thinking, I can see that he's thinking. That eyebrow of his is gyrating all over that chiselled face. "And what about the kids? Just think of the kids, Logan. They're really fond of you, you're like a hairy, feral climbing frame. Could you really see them on the street, homeless and hungry?"

He sighs, and I smile to myself; I'm becoming quite the manipulator and it truly sickens the nice girl in me.

* * *

"You wanna give me a hand, Darlin'?"

I don't know what to do with myself, my hands are shaking, my knees are knocking and I swear I've just had a stroke. Is this how it starts? Does every young woman go through this stage when they first, you know, when they first… Shit, I can't even say it.

Playing with Storm's digital camera instead, I randomly press buttons and, "Eek!" I think I just blinded myself with that flash. My vision slowly clears and I don't think they'll be any permanent damage. That is until I gaze up at _that_ thing again.

"Has, has the sock shrunk or is it always that size?" I ask, instantly regretting my choice of words, the fact that I've now seemingly developed a crush on his, his, you know and did you know that my parents got drunk, and nine moths later I was born?

How could they do this to me? I wasn't ready to leave home, I hadn't even seen a picture of one. And now, now I'm faced with one right out of Transylvania. I swear it's going to stand to attention, crawl out of it's cotton coffin and go on the prowl. With my luck it will crawl right into one of my holes and suck me dry. Actually, that doesn't sound half bad. I can think of three holes that would more then welcome the extra large tenant.

Logan smirks, oh, boy does he smirk. I blush, oh, boy do I blush.

"I've been blessed, what can I say?" He grunts unashamedly, flicking a match and lighting his cigar.

I can't help but notice the way the sock tightens and I find that terrifying. How on earth is it going to fit inside me without getting stuck?

"You okay, darlin'? You look a little green."

"Me, green?" I splutter, my eyes never leaving the sock. "I'll have you know I'm not inexperienced or ignorant of such activities. Yours is not the first one I've seen," He arches an eyebrow and the sock twitches. It's time to begin pacing the length of the locker room. I might just circle him, I'd better not stray to far from the cock… I mean sock. "And I've seen all sizes. They do come in different sizes, Logan, not different shapes though because that would be too confusing during sex education, and could you imagine putting a condom on a pineapple?"

Logan's other eyebrow pole vaults to his hairline and his sock is doing summersaults. I just feel sorry for the lump of flesh inside it, what if it suffers from travel sickness, or worse, vertigo?

"I meant, you look like shit." He replies with a shake of his head, "You been stealin' my whiskey again?" After another lazy drag of his cigar, he sits on the bench and sighs, "Get on with it, will you, before I change my mind."

I tear my perverted eyes away, gesturing for him to stand up and strike a pose. My voice box might have sprouted legs and had it away on it's toes, but my hands are free and full of vitality. I take vitamins to stay healthy, and strong, and… I think I've been overcome with an artistic license, or would that be a dramatic license? Who the fuck cares, I'm in my element.

Finding my voice, I clear my throat and ask him to stand, "Please stand, Wolverine.

Wolverine stands.

I then point as his cigar and instruct him to put it in his mouth, "Put that in your mouth."

Wolverine puts his cigar in his mouth.

Holding the camera to my face, I then tell him to fold his arms and appear grumpy, yet try to smoulder in print. "Fold your arms, look grumpy and try to smoulder in print."

Wolverine folds his arms, looks grumpy and tries to smoulder in print.

"I am fuckin' grumpy," He snarls over his cigar, puffing away like a dilapidated steam train. "The only way I'm gonna smoulder in print, is if I set fire to the damn thing."

I snap the photo and hug the camera protectively to my chest. "There's no need to act like that. Millions of women and men are going to have your calendar hanging in their kitchens, pantries, offices, bedrooms, bathrooms, cells, secure mental units, everywhere."

"Like I give a shit."

This really isn't going the way I planned, I thought he'd at least be grateful for the chance to stand naked in front of me wearing only a sock, a scowl and a sly glint in his eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Wolverine shrugs his shoulders.

I glance around, thinking that something else has caught his eye. But, no, unless he's developed an unhealthy relationship with the floor buffer to my right.

"Have I got something on my face?"

Wolverine nods his head.

My free hand immediately springs into action and checks every inch of my face. "Is it still there?"

Wolverine nods his head, again.

Right… So, I shuffle over to the mirror, the extremely large mirror on the wall above the sinks. It's just one long piece of glass, and it's large, very large. A massive piece of glass, one that shows Logan at his finest. "You're standing rather close," I mutter, swinging around and gulping. "You look better then your reflection."

Wolverine nods his head, twice.

He moves closer still, and I step back, my ass greeting the sink with a collection of squeaks. Both his large calloused hands rest on either side of the porcelain and I gaze at the camera. "I don't think this pose would work." I say, lamely. I'm so out of my depth, I've already drowned, and been eaten by Jaw's extended family. "You have very large nipples and I'm worried they might ruin the shot."

Wolverine nods his head and I feel the urge to slap him, then slap myself for being so stupid.

He snatches the camera from my hands and throws it over his shoulder, his very naked shoulder, the one that's attached to his equally naked torso. Alongside his thoroughly naked arms, hands, fingers, ass, thighs, calves, feet, toes and face. There is only one part of his body that is covered, and I'm not talking about his scalp.

"That's a very nice sock, Logan," I comment breezily, I'm great at small talk. "Have you owned it long?"

"Bout' a month."

Oh, I really am proud of him, he didn't nod his head that time.

"That's marvellous, it really is. You're looking at me strangely again, do I still have something on my face?"

"Yeah," He responds matter of factly.

"What is it?"

"Me."

I didn't see this coming, no really I didn't. His lips smash against mine and I groan against his hairy cheek, my arms curling around his neck. I don't know what to do next, his tongue is close to being sliced and diced by my teeth, and my tongue is cowering in the corner of my mouth, sure that it's being invaded.

We both stumble over to the bench, not breaking away from each others lips. Logan's hands caress my buttocks and I feel five fingers crawl up my skirt, bypassing the denim. He crashes against the tiled wall, sliding onto the bench and lifts me into his naked lap, his tongue still harassing mine.

I break away first, desperate to catch my breath and evaluate the situation. There's not much to it really; I'm sitting in Wolverine's lap, he's wearing a sock on his cock and I think Storm's camera might be broken.

He looks at me, and attempts to capture his breath in a manly manner. "Logan," I state, my hand patting one of his large nipples. "I'm sitting in your lap, you're wearing a sock on your cock and I think Storm's camera might be broken."

"This is where you belong, darlin', the fuckin' thing itches and I hope I've smashed the piece of shit."

Well, he's certainly put my mind at rest. "But, you, you kissed me and I don't just mean a peck on the cheek! You kissed me continuously, without the need for oxygen and you terrorised my tongue."

He paws at my bra strap, a hungry glint in his eyes. "What's your point?"

"What's my point?" I repeat, shifting in his lap and secretly feeling pleased with myself when he moans. "My point is," I remove my top, giving him easier access to my chest. "The point I'm trying to make is," He claws my bra free from my body and his teeth nip at one of my love buttons, drawing a groan from my lips. "The point is… Oooh, you dirty rat bastard. You don't know where they've been."

Wolverine grins ferally against my chest, "What's this point you're tryin' to make?" He grunts, nipping, biting and bruising a map of Mount Logan on my left breast.

"Yes, that point, well the point… Aw, fuck it, I can't remember what I was going to… Logan!"

"You any idea what you've been doin' to me?" He growls, capturing my tongue between his canines. "Flauntin' yourself and that smell, Darlin', that God damn smell."

"I haven't been flaunting myself, I don't wear bells on my nipples, do I? And what's this about a smell?" I'm about to sniff myself, when Logan lifts me clean off his lap, holds me against his thigh with one hand and rips the sock free.

I gulp, he grins and his largest muscle springs out for all to see. "You and me, Marie, what'd you say?"

"Me, you and that thing?" I question, pointing at the monster. It probably lives not only in a different zip code to Logan, but a separate state too. "Um, it's not that I… You see… I've never seen one quite like that before." Okay, that wasn't what I was going for. "Logan, in all honesty, I'm, I've never slept with anyone and _that_ thing is terrifying me."

He doesn't laugh, he doesn't smirk, only gazes at me with a look of relief. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." He growls, placing me to my feet. "Thought I'd have to shred the Icecube for a start."

I shake my head.

"You nervous?"

I nod my head.

"You wanna wait?"

I leap on him much like a wild, crazy feral being in heat.

* * *

_As the days grow colder, the news is flushed with stories of limited edition X-Men calendars, Scott's intimate meeting with a crack whore in a bus station and Charles Xavier's weekly visits to a psychiatrist. Two young women sit side-by-side in the garage of all places. Best friends since the day they first met, each know that the fate of the mansion no longer rests on their inexperienced shoulders._

_This is the story of how these two friends, and their love for Wolverine and Cyclops banished the creditors, bailiffs and the threat of bankruptcy from those they cared for, and enriched the lives of many across the world. The date is; Monday 22__nd__ November, and the time is irrelevant, yet far too late. Today is the day that both their calendars went on sale, Marie's with one identical black and white photo for every single month, and Jubilee's with ten coloured photo's for every single month. _

_The story is the stuff of legend, and a glitter of hope for the masses. This is how Marie and Jubilee left their mark on the world, and became heroes to the modern day perverts of the land. And it all started on a typical morning in Westchester, New York._


End file.
